Page 45 of Role Play
Ash
Ipaced in my kitchen. With each step, each second that passed, the dinner I cooked was getting colder. What the hell was I thinking cooking shellfish on our first night together? It didn’t keep well and didn’t stay warm. But I wanted the meal to be special, something that she didn’t treat herself to all that often. When I remembered the clams her mother used to make, I knew just what to cook. But shit, Lucy didn’t even know how to get to my house. What if she was lost? What if that stupid tin can she drove got flattened by asemi?
My grip on my cell was so tight, I could have crushed it with one good squeeze. But instead, I punched inanothertext message to her. I took a deep, calming breath, staring out at the palm trees in my backyard as they swayed in the evening’s gentle breeze. Despite the lush green I knew the leaves to be in the daytime, the hues were a muted selection of blues and grays. I blinked, my lungs stilling as I gnashed my teeth together and jabbed my finger into the keypad on my phone.Again. I couldn’t sound too pushy. Or too angry. It might just make her run. So, instead, I typed:How close are you?The text before that:Are you on your way?The text before that:Text me when you’releaving.
God, I sounded like a needy motherfucker. Paranoia and anxiety rose like high tide up my throat. It was paralyzing and my muscles clenched painfully with each passing minute she was late. The large, bay window curved around my dining table; the perfect view lay just beyond the glass, the city lights like diamonds scattered across navy velvet. I backed away, moving to the head of the dining table, sitting in my usual seat. Spreading my legs, I dropped my head between my knees. My therapist would tell me this was just the anxiety spiraling inside me—the guilt over Brie. He would say it wasn’t my fault, and I needed to let it go. But what the fuck did my therapist know? Dr. Melsieve was happily married with two kids.Hedidn’t make a promise, sign a fucking contract to always have her safety in mind, only to let the goddamn ball drop when it was mostimportant.
Lacing my fingers behind my head, I took a few deep breaths, forcing my racing heart to calm down.Breathe, baby.Breathe.
Brie. I could almost hear her soft voice, twinged with the lightest Texasaccent.
Deep breaths. In and out. My buzzing mind slowed down, and the spiral shifted to a swirl. Instead of a whirlpool, it was a circling drain.I need to go find Lucy.I could drive the route back to her apartment and along the way, I’d see if she’d had a wreck. Or a flat tire. I’d find her if she was introuble.
On the one hand, maybe the reason she wasn’t texting back was because she was driving. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. I wouldn’t want her to text and drive—that was even less safe. But another reason she could be not texting me? Because she could be in an ambulance on her way to thehospital.
Why the hell was she driving such a small fucking car? Good gas mileage? Come on. A Prius will save the planet as well and not fucking kill you in theprocess.
I jumped to my feet, grabbed my keys, and launched myself down the hall, rushing for the front door. Throwing it open, I skidded to a stop. Lucy was in my driveway. Correction: Hercarwas in my driveway, parked behind mine. Lucy, on the other hand, stood in my walkway, pacing back and forth, phone inhand.
Thank God. Immediate relief rushed through me. She was okay. She was here and safe and…pacingin front of myhouse.
“Lucy,” I said, my voice sharper than the edge of a blade. When she jumped, her phone flew out of her hands and hit the stone walkway with an awful cracking sound. I cringed, rushing towardher.
“Shit,” she whispered, falling to her knees, collecting her phone. Cracks spider webbed from the center of the screen out to the edges, her screensaver a kaleidoscope version of what it oncewas.
“Sorry,” I apologized in a softer voice, curling my fingers around her elbow and helping her to her feet. “I’ll fixit.”
She shook her head, her eyes still fixed onto the broken screen. “It’sfine.”
It was definitely not fine. She looked like she was about tocry.
Beneath the broken glass, I could see my text messages displayed. She had read them… and not answered me. How long had she been out here pacing? Then, below my name, I saw Rich’s name listed with a text that I only made out a couple of words before she dropped her phone into her purse.Come to my office… was all that I couldsee.
“Is that a text message from Richard Blair?” I sounded jealous.WasIjealous?
“Oh… um, yeah. With the early morning and running late and doing the stand-in thing I had forgotten to drop off his dry-cleaning.” She shrugged and nibbled the corner of hermouth.
It seemed odd that he would have her cell number and she would have his. But I didn’t push it. Maybe this was something Richard did with new employees. I vaguely remembered Jude having Rich’s number early on in hiscareer.
“Come on,” I said, giving her a little tug toward my frontdoor.
If she was reluctant to come inside, she didn’t show it as she followedme.
“Your house is beautiful,” she said, her voice quieter than the other night at LnS. So far removed from the girl who was yelling at me about Judy Garland being the betterperformer.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” I said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Sure, in actuality, I thought she was involved in some sort of fiery car crash—but that sounded completely crazy. And I was trying my damnedest to limit the crazytonight.
“I made it to the driveway,” she admitted, the tiniest movement of her shoulder crunching to her ear. “And then I started…” Her voice fadedoff.
“Pacing?” Ioffered.
“I was going to say over-thinking.” Her back straightened and she sniffed, her nose angling toward my kitchen. With a little smile, she blinked up at me. “You madeclams.”
I shrugged. “You said they’re your favorite.” There wasn’t a whole lot I could offer Lucy—but good meals, and even better orgasms were a fucking guarantee. And if that’s all I could do, well, I was going to make sure I did them toperfection.
The line of her throat tensed as she swallowed, and then she tilted her chin, her lips damp as they parted, waiting. Waiting for me to kissher.
“Are you offering me your lips?” I asked, my voicegraveled.
